


The Masters of Fate

by Jill_Klein



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Female Apprentice (The Arcana), Named Apprentice (The Arcana)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23726371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jill_Klein/pseuds/Jill_Klein
Summary: When the young magician Nerissa is called by the Countess of Vesuvia to uncover the mysteries of her husband's murder, she doesn't know that she'll end up involved in a web that surpasses the limits of reason, love and magic. A world of adventure waits for her, beyond the edge of imagination, powers and dimmensions.
Kudos: 1





	The Masters of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> All characters - except the main one - belong to Nix Hydra and their game The Arcana. No copyright violation intended.

**1**

Rhythmic drums blared hypnotically among the colorful bazaars. The silks and the tassels swung with the wind as the crowd of people gathered in front of a small wooden stage, draped with dark starry curtains and glittery fabrics. The sound grew in a throbbing beat and a thick purple mist slithered from underneath the veil, rising towards the moonless velvety sky. Anticipation started to blossom amidst the curious folks that watched the peculiar unraveling of the dense fog that shifted suddenly into a deep blue shade. The ethereal dance of the smoke was so mesmerizing that the people barely noticed a slender arm escaping from between the curtains.  


The spectators held their breaths, lost in the trance of the flowy movements of the rosy wrist and the tinkling bracelet around it. The hand of long fingers, adorned by a myriad of rings, turned its palm towards the sky in a delicate gesture. A gasp escaped the crowds lips as a bright flame was conjured unexpectedly, floating bewitchingly an inch above the beautiful hand. Engulfed by the mist that continued to thicken, the flame ceased to be visible. The crowd became silent again, whereas the sound of the drums grew energetically.  


A loud snap echoed as the mist became red and faded, revealing a breathtaking woman, whose bright yellow eyes scanned the crowd sensually as her naked shoulders swung with the music. She moved her hips skillfully, shaking the metal chains and pendants around the waist of her bright red skirt. The audience watched in fascination as she took her hands to her hair, running her fingers along its raven and luscious extension without ever losing contact with the dozens of eyes that observed her.  


One more time, her palms met the starry skies. Her reddish lips curled in a secretive smirk, as the flames appeared again, dancing ghostly above her hands. They joined the rhythmic dance as she moved across the stage, waltzing through a faint white fog. The flames met in an arc above her head, launching bright colors to her dark hair. She moved her arms in expansive gestures, making her flames grow larger and then smaller, shaping them into spheres and mystical figures. She whirled gracefully, fluttering her shimmery skirt, and the flames turned into serpents of water that slithered around her wrists. They grew into a merciless wave that swiped the wooden floor, turning into a thin coil that moved slowly around her body.  


The crowd watched in wonder, their eyes trying to absorb everything that was unfurling on the stage. The woman took her fingers to her face, allowing the water to kiss her cheeks and shoulders, as she moved her hands sensually along her hips. The movement of the water became more solid as they turned into wild vines that wrapped around her skin and glided dangerously towards the crowd. A fragile branch bloomed in a bulbous rose and offered the fragrant flower in a charming gesture to the blacksmith standing in the front. He lifted his rough hands to accept the blossom and the branch crawled back, vanishing into the thin mist and rising towards the sky in a swirl of wind. The gentle breeze, which little by little became corporeal, caressed the woman’s hair, making it swing around her. Her lips curled in an amused smile as the wind returns to her palm, turning into a thick fuchsia fog. It grew larger as the woman made one last sensual turn on the stage before launching the sphere of fog towards the sky. It hovered the crowd, making the spectators wait anxiously for what was about to come.  


With a single gesture from her skillful hand, the sphere exploded into a thousand colorful stars that fell gleamingly over the crowd. A little girl, safe in her father’s arms, reached out to grab a glittery speck that fell towards her. On the stage, the woman bowed and flashed one last smile to the impressed people in front of her. She took her hand above her head and, with a swift movement, thrusted it towards the floor, producing a loud, dramatic snap. A sudden fog engulfed her, blinding the audience in a red and glittery cloud of smoke. Everyone watched in astonishment and when the mist vanished, she was no longer there.  


The crowd exploded in an energetic round of applauses as Nerissa escaped through the back curtains, climbing down the small set of stairs that led to the silent streets behind the bazaars. She covered her head with the starry hood of her purple cape as she vanished into the milky mist that covered the streets of Vesuvia.  


She walked silently under the laurels and pending lilacs of her street and the lit lanterns of the few shops that remained open launched supernatural shadows along the stone floor. The only sounds came from her soft steps and Mr. Kelly’s broom sweeping the front step of his shop. Nerissa waved at the gentle cobbler and continued her path towards the last building of the street. The outside lantern welcomed her in a warm light and she unlocked the small opening to blow the candle’s wick, engulfing her in a partial darkness. Her fingers met the cold metal knob and she opened the heavy wooden door, entering her inviting and fragrant magic shop.  


The place, now closed, denoted only the beginning of the evening. Nerissa withdrew her cape, hanging it on the hook on the wall. She walked to the long mahogany counter, where the many talismans, dry herbs and ancient books were expound under a heavy glass lid. Over it, a purple cloth covered part of the glass. She ran her fingers over the fabric, sighing in relaxation after the nightly performance. Outside, an owl hooted softly. Nerissa smiled, for during the day a bird’s chirp usually went unnoticed, engulfed by the loud sounds of the city. Laughter, chattering and moving wagons were the music among the waterways, in tune with the sound of coins, mugs being refilled and rushed steps upon the crowded the streets. In the night, however, many different sounds awaited for appreciation.  


The nightly tune started with Asra’s inconspicuous sounds as he moved swiftly through the shop. Nerissa was accustomed to his discrete movements and didn’t even have to look up to know what he was gathering a few ingredients and looking for a book. She grabbed a cloth and proceeded to clean the countertop, when the sheer curtains of the backroom danced away, revealing Asra’s svelte figure as he placed a book inside his brown leather satchel.  


In his travel clothes – light and whimsical – he looked young, restless and vibrant. He fixed his long and colorful sleeveless coat over his white shirt and wrapped a magenta shawl around his shoulders. Nerissa lifted her face to look at him, his lips curling in an affectionate smile.  


“How was your performance?” he asked wrapping the long crimson scarf around his neck.  


Nerissa shrugged. “I think we can expect a new set of costumers on the next weeks,” she said. “Chess Grove seemed very impressed by the dance of the elements.”  


Asra smiled. “People tend to see magic with open eyes when they realize it can be both useful and entertaining,” he said. “And your performances are always wondrous to watch.”  


“I wish you were there to see,” she said.  


He smirked softly. “And what makes you think that I wasn’t?”  


Nerissa blushed and her heart drummed softly out of rhythm. “Must you really leave tonight?”  


“It’s the dead of a moonless night,” he told her, mysteriously.  


Asra’s face, young and serene, looked at her with an affectionate expression. His eyes glistened like amethysts under the candlelights that launched flickering shadows upon his golden skin. He smiled softly at her, which made the flush on her cheeks become redder.  


“Are you all right?” he asked, concerned. “You seem a little feverish.”  


She looked away, running her fingers along the waves of her raven hair. “I’m fine,” she said.  


“I’m going to miss you,” he said, dearly.  


She gulped, gathering the courage to look back at him. “Me too.”  


On the wooden floor, a lavender serpent slithered silently, avoiding Nerissa’s feet and moving towards Asra. She climbed his body with agility and found a comfortable place around his neck. Nerissa watched the little snake – Asra’s familiar – flicker her thin tongue at her, lovingly.  


“I’m going to miss you too, Faust,” she said to the serpent.  


Nerissa rested her hands – long beige fingers adorned by golden rings – over the counter, trying to ease the tension on her shoulders that tended to grow with the proximity of Asra’s journeys. For a wandering magician, it was common for him to travel a few times every year, looking for knowledge and magical wisdom, exploring distant kingdoms and forgotten villages. Every time, he brought back something new to teach Nerissa.  


Asra’s eyes twinkled under the candles as he withdrew something from his pocket, gliding it over the purple cloth towards her. Her eyes widened at the sight of the violet box and its intricate golden pattern.  


“I want you to have this,” he said, serene.  


Her lips opened and closed a few times before being able to say anything. “Your tarot deck,” she said, barely containing the astonishment in her voice. “Do you think I’m ready, Master?”  


He snickered softly. “You’re still calling me that.”  


Nerissa’s cheeks blushed again. “I’m sorry… Asra. Still, you haven’t answered my question.”  


He eyed her with calmness. “You know I can’t answer that for you. You’ve made incredible progress along the years, but you still won’t let go of your doubts. Do you think you’re ready?”  


She crinkled the space between her brows, puzzled by his questions. Her eyes dropped upon the tarot deck in front of her and she studied her feelings and buried uncertainties for a few moments. The cards seemed to call for her and she reached out, holding the box in her hands. The sensation shifted from a distant call to a throbbing and palpable sensation that burned in her palms. Somehow, she knew what the cards wanted. Her fingers unconsciously opened the box and she withdrew the deck from the interior.  


“Why don’t we ask the cards?” she suggested.  


Asra opened a sweet smile. “Excellent suggestions,” he said, and his gaze followed the cards as they slipped through her fingers, shuffled with the same fluidity of water or sand running in between her palms.  


After shuffling, Nerissa cut the deck in three equal parts. One of them called for her – a distant and faint call – and she spread its cards over the counter, choosing the three specific ones whose magic answered to her touch. She placed two of them side by side and putted the remaining one a little below the others, forming an upside-down triangle. In Asra’s lips, a proud smile rose.  


“It’s been a while since we’ve practiced,” he said. “You’ve managed to master the technique and I shouldn’t have expected less. You’re truly gifted, Nerissa.”  


She blushed, but tried to shove her feelings aside while resting her hands over the deep purple tablecloth adorned by hand-painted phases of the moon. She meditated under the few rays of starlight that peeked through the gauzy curtains and moved her hand unconsciously towards the top right card. The design of them – an intricate pattern of blue, gold, red and black – were the same, but the fortune they held was immensely different. Nerissa flipped the card and her heart leaped when she saw the image of the big white owl with big red eyes and a half moon upon its head.  


“The High Priestess,” she said, hesitant.  


Asra leaned closer, expectant. “What is she telling you? Is she speaking to you now?”  


Nerissa nodded, cleaning her mind and focusing on the image in front of her. The owl’s eyes met hers and the intensity of the connection was of such strength that they seemed to be blinking at her. The owl’s red irises met Nerissa’s bright yellow eyes and many words started to crowd her mind. Though they were not of human nature, Nerissa could understand them fully.  


“You’ve forsaken her,” she said, darkly.  


Asra frowned, confused. “I have?”  


She nodded. “Yes. You’ve pushed her away and buried her voice.”  


Asra’s violet eyes stared deeply at the cards as he fell into a sepulchral silence, waiting for her to continue. In his throat, a lump seemed to form.  


“She calls out, but you won’t listen,” Nerissa said. “If you continue to ignore her…”  


Nerissa’s eyes looked for his, but Asra looked away. She studied his harsh expression, strange in his usual serene face. His golden brow jaw was tense and he lifted his hand to run his fingers nervously through his pure white hair, releasing a long and exasperated sigh. Nerissa bit her lip, wondering what in her words caused Asra to lose his calmness and composure.  


A sharp knock startled them. Faust stared at the door and flickered her thin tongue threateningly.  


“Calm down, Faust,” Asra said, petting her head.  


“A costumer?” Nerissa wondered. “At this hour?”  


“Did we forget to put out the lantern again?” he questioned.  


Nerissa shook her head. “No. I’ve put it out when I returned. This is so strange…”  


“It’s probably one of your admirers,” he said, amused. “Anyway, I can’t stay any longer.”  


“But-”  


Asra cupped her cheeks with both hands and leaned over to place a warm kiss upon her forehead. Nerissa’s heart raced unhinged inside her chest as she watched him put on his black hat – bearing a single colorful feather – and head for the back door. He lingered in place a little longer, eyeing her with affection.  


“Take care, Nerissa,” he said. “Until we meet again.”  


He made a discrete gesture with his hat and opened the door, slipping towards the nightly landscape. Nerissa sighed, staring at the closed wooden door, trying to ease the questions flooding her heart. She rested her forearms over the counter, letting out a long breath. The suddenness of the silence started to bother her. There was no opening and closing of doors… No shuffling of cards in the backroom… No Asra brewing tea in the kitchen… The silence seemed different.  


Strange and heavy.  


The mysterious visitor knocked again, bringing Nerissa’s heart to a race. The knocking continued, loud and impatient, and she walked to the door, opening it carefully. The figure on the outside barely waited for her to step aside. A tall, slender woman entered the shop and began to unwind the shawl from her neck.  


Nerissa’s heart nearly stopped. “Countess Nadia!” she gasped.  


In front of her, the elegant woman folded the luxurious shawl over her thin brown arm. Nerissa straightened her back, trying to maintain the composure, but the Countess’s outstandingly beautiful features and imposing eyes made her feel a little uncomfortable.  


“Forgive me by the hour,” the Countess said. “But I will not suffer another sleepless night.”  


She started to fix her long wine color hair - tousled by the shawl - and brushed it with her fingers until it fell in a smooth cascade all the way to her hips, where it faded into a cooler shade of violet. Her gaze of burgundy eyes fell upon Nerissa as she blinked her long and thick eyelashes, analyzing the whimsically dressed magician, still in her performance clothes. Nerissa pulled down the hem of her cropped top, but the chains and pendants knocked mercilessly against each other, echoing in a tickling melody.  


The Countess’s lips curled in an amused smirk. “Please, you must read the cards for me,” she said.  


Nerissa swallowed hard. “Of course, milady. You’ve come to the right place.”  


Countess Nadia released a sigh of relief and opened a smile, resting her hand over her chest. She relaxed ever so slightly, looking around and studying the vibrant looking shop. All around, colorful candles and incenses perfumed the environment, and sheer fabrics and vases of different plants pended from the ceiling. The shop bore the vividness of Asra and the bewitching nature of Nerissa. Within it all, the presence of magic seemed almost palpable.  


“This is a lovely place,” the Countess said. “I’ve heard a lot about you and your reputation. Beggars and nobles alike… The people of this city whisper your name in wonder. Your presentation tonight was very… enchanting.”  


Nerissa gulped, feeling the redness burning in her cheeks. “Milady watched me?”  


The woman smiled. “Your magic is impressive, though in my dreams you were a little different. Doesn’t matter. I’ve come with a proposal.”  


She frowned, confused. “Dreams?”  


“Yes,” the Countess said, making an annoyed gesture. “An unwelcome ability I’ve come to possess. My dreams are haunted by the visions of a future waiting to unfold. But the one that I saw… the one that brought me to you… is one I will not allow to pass.”  


“Foreseeing the future is a gift that demands a lot of responsibility,” Nerissa said. “Must be exhausting.”  


“Indeed,” she said.  


“And what is the proposal that you mentioned?” Nerissa asked.  


The Countess smirked. “Are you nervous, perhaps? I confess I cannot read you, but you needn’t be. I require very little of you,” she said, calmly. “Come to the Palace and be my guest for a short while. You will be afforded every luxury, of course. I ask only that you bring your skills and, well, the Arcana.”  


Nerissa’s eyes fell upon the spread cards over the counter. Once again, they seemed to emanate a deep throbbing energy, calling for her.  


“I will alert the guards to expect you tomorrow,” the Countess continued. “But before that… I want to see more of these talents of yours. Shall we do a reading?”  


Nerissa nodded humbly, making a gesture to guide the Countess through the sheer starry curtains that separated the backroom from the rest of the shop. The small stone room had a simple circular table in the middle, covered by a light green cloth. The two armchairs – one emerald and one purple – rested across from each other. Paintings of magical symbols and runes covered the walls – many of them painted by Nerissa herself – and the wall across from the door bore an imposing bookshelf, packed with books and scrolls from every corner of the world.  


“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Nerissa said, indicating the emerald chair.  


The Countess sat gracefully, straightening her long lavender dress over her legs. She rested her elbows on the table, entwining her long fingers covered by rings of gold and green gemstones and relaxed her chin over them, studying Nerissa’s movements.  


The magician sat on the purple chair, shuffling the cards in silence. Her eyes fell upon the luxurious figure of the Countess, whose dress seemed to be made of the finest silks and whose sharp eyes watched Nerissa like a hawk. The girl gulped, trying to contain her nervousness, and asked the woman to cut the deck in three. The Countess chose one part and then studied the cards that Nerissa spread over the table. She indicated three with her long finger and Nerissa placed them in the same pattern of before.  


“Clear your mind,” she guided. “Focus simply on your question. Now, choose the card that speaks to you.”  


The Countess arched her brows and pointed at the top left card. Nerissa flipped it and the figure of a fox in a red cape greeted her amusedly.  


“The Magician,” she said.  


The Countess smiled, leaning against the back of the chair. “How very appropriate. What does the Magician holds for me?”  


Nerissa stared at the card. “You have a plan. One that is important to you.”  


The woman lifted a single brow. “And? Should I set it in motion?”  


Nerissa nodded “Yes. Now is the time to act. Everything has fallen into place.”  


The Countess thrusted the chair back, standing up in an abrupt motion. Nerissa’s heart leaped as the woman eyed her with a purposeful expression.  


“Say no more,” she said. “Your fortune is straightforward, much the same as the others I’ve heard. Yet, you are the first to pique my interest.”  


Nerissa frowned, puzzled by her words.  


“I will see you tomorrow at noon then,” the Countess said. “At the Palace.”  


“Yes, milady.”  


She followed the Countess to the shop, her thoughts swirling with questions. The woman looked at her, whatever so mysteriously, and nodded under the archway.  


“Pleasant dreams,” she said, vanishing into the mist.  


Once again, Nerissa released a long and tormented sigh. She closed the door and returned to the counter, resting her elbows over the glass and hiding her face on her hands. The Countess, though beautiful and imposing, seemed to exhale mystery. Strange conversations about dreams and plans, shortly after Asra’s enigmatic words… Nerissa’s mind burned with curiosity and apprehension, wondering what could be waiting for her in the Palace. A place she’d never been before…  


“Strange hours for a shop to keep,” a harsh, muffled voice spoke.  


Nerissa’s heart raced painfully and she looked around, startled. Her eyes met the flickering flames of the candles and the faint smoke that rose from the lit incense on the corner table. She scanned the shop many times, looking for the source of the voice. Silence greeted her as she looked from one corner to the other, waiting with tremendous apprehension.  


“Right behind you,” the voice said and she turned around abruptly, her eyes meeting the tall lean figure that stood in front of her. “So… this is the magician’s lair.”  


She gulped, taking a step back, but her back met the wood counter. The stranger, standing unpretentiously near her, was much taller than her, making her lift her head to be able to look at his face, which was covered by a white mask with a long beak and red eyes.  


A plague mask.  


The stranger moved silently and started to circulate the store. Standing away from him, Nerissa studied the long black cape he was wearing, with a deep crimson lining. His black jacket bore silver snaps in the front that glistened under the candlelights. She swallowed hard when he looked at her through the mask’s glassy eyes.  


“Who are you?” he asked.  


She held her breath as he tilted his head with curiosity. Her palms burned with the tingling of magic and she lifted her hands in his direction, launching furious ice bolts towards him. He dodged the attack skillfully and the spell hit the wall behind him, freezing the stone. Nerissa tightened her jaw, closing her hands in tight fists.  


The intruder threw his head back, releasing a loud and amused chortle. Nerissa stepped back unconsciously as the man lifted his gloved hand and removed his mask, throwing is unceremoniously onto the floor. Her eyes widened at the familiar face, known from the wanted posters spread all over the city. The black and white posters, however, didn’t capture the deep auburn of his messy hair that fell over his long and pale face. One of his eyes – the color of rain – remained half-shut and flirtatious, while a black eyepatch covered the other. His lips curled in an extremely diverted smirk as Nerissa’s eyes continued wide and frightened at the sight of the criminal. She watched his every move, but the man didn’t seem to be bearing any weapon.  


“As I suspected,” he said, laughing. “Shock! Horror! You know who I am, don’t you?”  


She didn’t respond.  


“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Where’s the magician?”  


Her jaw tightened. “Master Asra isn’t here. I am the only magician in this place.”  


The man looked at her, intrigued. “Master, huh? Is it… Well, I won’t pry into your personal affairs, but if you don’t know and I don’t know… Why don’t we ask your magic cards? That’s what the room in the back is for, isn’t it?”  


She continued static. His uncovered eye bore an undecipherable glow, making it impossible to foresee his intentions. Nerissa’s heart pounded furiously inside her chest.  


He risked a step forward, looking at her with curiosity. “Have we met before?”  


She frowned. “I don’t think so.”  


“Hmm…” he said, pensive. “Could swear I’d seen your eyes before. Such an uncommon color…”  


She shook her head, which made him smile.  


“After you, then,” he said, indicating the backroom.  


“If I read the cards for you,” she said. “Will you leave?”  


His eyes gleamed. “Of course. There’s no need to attack me again.”  


She swallowed hard, moving to the backroom. “What did you expect me to do?”  


He followed her. “I’m surprised that you didn’t call the guards.”  


She turned around, placing her hands on her waist. “Do you want me to call them?”  


He stiffened his shoulders, appalled by her words.  


“I didn’t think so,” she continued. “Sit down.”  


Nerissa sat gently in the purple chair, whereas the man found it hard to fit his long legs in the narrow space, and destabilized the table with his knees.  


“Forgive me,” he said, adjusting himself on the chair and leaning back, staring at her through his steel grey eye.  


She arranged the cards back in a pile and shuffled them again, crossing her ankles underneath the table. When she lifted her head to ask him to cut the deck, she noticed the impish smirk he was directing her.  


Nerissa flashed him an annoyed stare. “Something wrong?”  


His snickered. “Nothing. It’s just… mesmerizing to watch you.”  


A sudden redness spread all over her face and she looked down, pretending to be concentrated on the deck, and ignored his words. He continued to watch her with his intense and penetrating gaze that almost made her skin tingle. She looked at him, trying to pose a serene expression.  


“I don’t know your name,” she said.  


“My name?” he gasped.  


She leaned back, staring fiercely at him. “For your reading. I confess that I do not recall your name.”  


“Oh,” he said, blushing a little. “Right. Yes. Of Course. You can call me Julian.”  


She placed the deck in front of him. “Julian.”  


“Sounds even better coming from your lips,” he added.  


Her cheeks burned. “Cut the deck in three,” she said, firmly.  


Julian took a deep breath and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. His hand, covered by a leather glove that ended by his elbow, made the deck look small as he divided it in three parts. His gaze moved from the cards to Nerissa’s face, gleaming indiscreetly in the dim light.  


“Choose a pile,” she said.  


He pointed to the middle one. Nerissa putted the other two aside and spread the cards of the chosen pile over the table. Julian rested his face on his hand and a lock of wavy auburn hair fell over his eyepatch, not seeming to bother him. He studied the cards attentively and indicated three of them, which Nerissa arranged in a triangle.  


“Choose one,” she said.  


Julian took a deep breath and tilted his head, staring at the cards from a different angle. At last, he took his index finger to the lonely card closer to him and tapped it a few times. Nerissa reached out and flipped the card, revealing the image of Death.  


“Death? Death?” he laughed, somewhat hysterically, and threw his head back, amused. “Death cast her glaze on this wretch and turned away! She has no interest in an abomination like me!”  


Nerissa’s lips parted in a flabbergasted expression as she watched Julian push the chair back and stand up swiftly. He turned on his heels and walked fast to the shop, making Nerissa rush to follow him.  


“Wait!” she called. “That’s not what Death means!”  


She stopped by the backdoor entrance, watching him pick up the mask from the floor. He looked at her with severity and shook his head.  


“No, no,” he said. “My fate is sealed, but you’ve been hospitable, so I’ll let you in a secret.”  


Nerissa frowned, watching him run his index finger along the mask’s beak, almost caressing it.  


“Your magician friend will be back for you,” he said. “He’s taught you his tricks. You may even say he cares for you. Nevertheless, when he returns… Seek me out. For your own sake. Don’t let him fool you, shopkeeper.”  


With a large and exaggerated bow, he putted on the mask and looked at her through the emotionless glassy red eyes.  


“Well then,” he said, lastly. “The hour is late and I’m out of time.”  


He opened the door and looked at Nerissa one last time before swirling his cape dramatically and disappearing into the night. She rushed to the door, staring at the white canvas of glowing mist in front of her. In less than an hour, Asra had left and two of the most uncommon beings had requested her talents. She took her fingers to her temples, massaging the headache that came unannounced.  


Nerissa closed the door and turned the three keys to make sure it was secure, as well as the backdoor. Returning to the backroom, she placed the cards back in the box, feeling her heart strangely heavy. She moved to the kitchen, making herself a cup of calming tea. In the distance, a raven screeched, bringing her heart to a race.  


She placed a hand over her unhinged heart. “There’s no need to be so alarmed. There’s no one here anymore.”  


She took the cup of tea to the upstairs chambers, leaving it over the nightstand. At last, she removed her performance outfit and slipped into comfortable sleeping clothes. She lodged in the middle of the bed and sipped the tea while staring at the tarot deck over her lap. Once again, the cards seemed to throb in a deep and secretive energy. She rested her head against the bedframe, tired and confused. She flipped the top card, staring at the image of Death.  


The thirteenth major Arcana, which resembled a horse’s skeleton holding a scythe. It wasn’t the most endearing of images, but its meaning wasn’t as dark as its appearance. When upright, meant changing. Death reaped what had run its course, allowing new life to grow in the space left behind. It meant transformation. A changing into new beginnings. However, when reversed, meant that the future was inevitable; that one shouldn’t try to trick fate. Change would come, whether one wants it or not.  


After finishing her tea, she blew the candle’s flame and turned to her side, embracing Asra’s pillow. His scent, strong and fragrant, invaded her nostrils as her mind swirled with a million questions: What mysteries waited for her at the Palace? What was so special about her that made the Countess so intrigued? Why didn’t Julian bother to know the real meaning of Death?  


She closed her eyes, allowing the tiredness to fall upon her like a heavy blanket. The whispers of the wind entering through the window worked as a lullaby and she dozed off, protected by the powerful Arcana magic emanating from the cards and from herself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Any comments, critiques or concerns, feel free to contact me.


End file.
